


Фиолетовая вата

by keysmash_ghost



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Banter, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Don't Worry About It, Drama, Fights, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Linear Narrative, Otabek is mentioned for like a second, Partying, Underage Drinking, they beat up a bunch of homophobes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29513607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysmash_ghost/pseuds/keysmash_ghost
Summary: "Where's Viktor?""Oh my fucking God! Don't tell me you lost your fiancé!" groaned Yurio, burying his head into the pillows.Just a group of friends bar-hopping in St. Petersburg, getting blackout drunk and then facing the consequences of their actions the next morning.(Don’t let the title deceive you, this is actually in English.)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Kudos: 43





	1. Wild night with an aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> The whole plot might not make sense and there's really nothing to learn from this story but I had fun writing it. Also, I put all my Russian knowledge into this.

Yuuri woke up with a splitting headache and a slight nausea. The sun was shining through the window, burning his eyes as he opened them. Okay, good, at least he was at home, or what he called home since Thursday, when he finally moved in with his fiancé. They'd been planning it for a while now and Yuuri agreed to move to Russia with Viktor permanently, if they'll still visit his family back in Japan at least twice a year.

And yet, despite the familiar room, he felt like something was missing.

There was movement beside him under the blankets that caused Yuuri to turn his attention from the ceiling to the bed and what he saw was surprising, to say the least: a sleeping Yurio, hugging one of the pillows that covered half of his face. The other half was covered by his messy blond hair. “What is _he_ doing here?” was the thought that crossed Yuuri's panicked mind as he desperately tried to remember the previous night.

\--

_“Yuuri!” yelled a very happy Phichit, enveloping his friend in a hug as he opened the door._

_“It's nice to see you too. How was your flight?” asked Yuuri, inviting the other into the apartment._

_“Awful. I was sitting next to a woman with a baby and the kid was crying_ nonstop _, throughout the entire flight. The only time she stopped was when she puked on me. But I had to change at the hotel anyway, so no big deal. We're still going out tonight, right?” rambled Phichit, hanging his jacket and taking off his shoes._

_“Yeah, of course. We gotta celebrate. Or at least that's what you said” smiled Yuuri and pushed a box aside with his foot so his friend could move into the living room._

_“Of course we gotta celebrate. You guys moved in together!”_

_“We’ve been living together for months now; all I did was move my stuff here and change my mailing address” Yuuri rolled his eyes._

_“Don’t be like that. Moving in with your fiancé_ is _a big deal! Speaking of Viktor, where is he?” asked Phichit, sinking into the couch with a sigh._

_“In the bathroom, he’s been there for a while now” said the Japanese. He could hear the faint sounds of the running shower coming from down the hall._

_“I bet he takes hours to get ready” said Phichit with a smirk._

_“Yeah” sighed the other. “I hope he’ll finish soon.”_

_Soon turned out to be almost an hour later and Viktor was standing in front of the mirror in the hallway, hesitating between two equally nice shirts, while the other two were making drinks in the kitchen._

_“I can't choose, Yuuri!” whined the Russian, looking from one shirt to the other_

_“They both look great. Just put one on. We're already late” answered Yuuri, checking the time on his phone. Next to him Phichit was putting ice cubes into two glasses before offering one of the drinks to Yuuri, who took it without a word and took a big gulp. He loved Viktor with all his heart but the man could be so ridiculous sometimes._

_“But which one?”_

_Yuuri abandoned his Mojito to stand behind his fiancé. He put his hands on Viktor’s waist and gave him his most patient smile._

_“We're only going out for a few drinks. It doesn't matter. You’ll look amazing anyways” he said and placed a small kiss on the back of the other’s neck._

_“It_ does _matter. I have an image to uphold” answered Viktor, now less distressed._

_“Well, you can't go wrong with a white shirt” said Phichit from behind his drink, glancing at them from the kitchen._

_“But that's boriiiing_ ” _groaned the Russian._

_“Then go with the other one” said Yuuri, taking the burgundy shirt from Viktor's hands and putting it on his shoulders._

_“But that's my favorite. What if someone spills something on it? It's hard to wash a stain out of this material.”_

_In the end, Viktor did choose a shirt (a grey one with a pink flower pattern) and they were only 45 minutes late from their meeting with none other than one Christophe Giacometti in front of a fancy bar. Frankly, nobody had sent an invitation to the Swiss skater but he “just happened to be in town” so he invited himself. Not that Yuuri minded all that much, since the man, despite being the biggest flirt and playboy in the world, was still a nice guy and somewhat of a friend._

_“You're late” Chris stated with a charming smile._

_“Yeah,_ someone _had trouble getting ready” complained Yuuri, nodding his head towards his fiancé. His voice held no anger, though, so Viktor only shrugged._

_“I'm not surprised” laughed the Swiss and they stepped into the bar. “So what's the plan for tonight?” he asked, turning to the Russian._

_“Bar-hopping, obviously” answered Viktor with a bright smile and he took out his phone from his pocket, showing a well-planned route on Google Maps to his friend. And Yuuri tried to pay attention, he really did, but his eyes spotted a familiar head of long blond locks._

_“Why is Yurio here?” he asked his fiancé, who stopped talking about whatever place him and Chris had been discussing and turned his head towards the direction Yuuri was looking at._

_“I invited him, obviously” he answered and yelled out the teenager's name to get his attention. To that, Yurio picked up his head from his phone, looking at the group with annoyance, although Yuuri knew if he'd been truly annoyed, he wouldn't have come in the first place._

_“Viktor, he’s a teenager. You can’t take a 16-year-old bar-hopping” he whispered into the other's ear._

_“This is Russia, no one cares” Viktor answered, patting his shoulder, but Yuuri was not convinced. They started walking towards the table Yurio was sitting at and the younger Russian waved awkwardly as the others greeted him. He already had an empty glass in front of him._

_“How did you get in?” asked Yuuri._

_“Fake ID” came the short explanation from the teen._

_“Is this- Do you usually-“ started the older skater._

_“No” answered Yurio simply and he stood up to ask for another drink at the counter. Yuuri just kept staring as he disappeared in the already big crowd. Where were all these people coming from? Sure, it was a Saturday but it was only 7 pm._

_“Stop worrying about him” smiled Viktor next to him and he gave Yuuri's arm a squeeze._

_“He's still a child.”_

_“He'll be fine. I'll look after him. We all will, right guys?” the Russian asked and the two men on the other side of the table nodded. “You see, everything will be fine.”_

_“Alright” sighed Yuuri, giving in. Viktor was a bad influence with his handsome smile and careless confidence. “But no shots! He's underage.”_

_“No shots” reassured Viktor and drew a cross across his chest where his heart was as a promise, before asking everyone at the table what they wanted to drink._

_“Tequila!” exclaimed Phichit, looking at the man next to him who only laughed._

_“Sure, I'll have one as well” Chris agreed._

_“We just said no shots!” said Yuuri, already regretting letting Phichit drink a second cocktail at home._

_“No, we said no shots for Yurio. I didn't agree to anything else” smiled Viktor._

_“You are_ literally _the Devil” said the younger man._

_“You wound me, Yuuri” said the Russian, dramatically placing a hand to his forehead, joking around. “My own fiancé...”_

_“Okay, okay. Just get me something to drink. I can't believe I'm being_ this _irresponsible. You're a bad influence” sighed the Japanese._

_“Loosen up a little” smiled Viktor, placing a kiss on the other's head before disappearing into the crowd._

_After both Yurio and Viktor returned to their table the group was happily sipping on their drinks (well, Yuuri and Yurio was, as the others had their round of shots)._

_“I always forget I don't like tequila” said Phichit with disgust._

_“Then why did you order that?” asked Chris._

_“I keep forgetting that it tastes horrible and then order it, thinking that since it's in my favorite cocktail it can't be_ that _bad, but then it always turns out to be disgusting” rambled the younger skater._

_“What's your favorite drink?” asked the Swiss._

_“Margarita” answered Phichit with a hiccup._

_“Then Margarita it is. The next round's on me” the other exclaimed. “Is that alright with you two?” he asked, looking at the couple on the other side of the table._

_“Sure” nodded Viktor and Chris went to the counter to order._

_“I've never had a Margarita before” said Yuuri._

_“Oh, you’ll like it. It’s very… citrusy” explained Viktor, looking for the right word then putting an arm across his partner's shoulders._

_“It’s_ really _good” said Phichit, playing with the empty shot glass in front of him._

_Yurio just sat in silence next to the Thai skater, typing away on his phone. He's been doing that ever since the others arrived._

_“Who are you talking to, Yurio?” asked Viktor, leaning on the table and resting his chin on one of his hands._

_“No one” answered the younger Russian, startled, and he put his phone away in a hurry._

_“Uhhumm” said Viktor, not believing the other even for a minute._

_“It doesn't matter” answered the blond._

_“If you say so, Yurio” said the man and leaned back as Chris arrived with_ five _Margaritas._

_“Chris?” asked Yuuri, his eyes drifting to the drinks. He was pretty sure that the cocktails contained a fairly generous amount of tequila and the idea of Yurio drinking anything but beer that night bothered him. Thankfully Chris figured what the Japanese was thinking about, and not wanting to anger the younger skater, he simply answered “What? Can't I have two?” To this, Yuuri gave him a relieved smile and quickly finished his drink before reaching for one of the Margaritas._

_They entered the next bar an hour later. The place was full, so much that Yuuri was having a hard time breathing (or maybe that was the alcohol. How much had he have? Three? Maybe four cocktails?) Thank god Viktor reserved a table. A table that was occupied by three men, who didn't care about the obvious sign in front of them._

_“Excuse me, I believe this is our table” said Viktor with a smile as he walked up to the men._

_“Что?” asked one of the men, looking at Viktor in the least friendly way possible to which the skater switched to Russian. Yuuri couldn't follow the conversation, since his Russian was far from good (he only knew the pet names Viktor kept calling him and a few basic expressions) but he knew the men were not happy with whatever his fiancé was saying. They eventually stood up and walked away, though, so the group could finally take a seat, but not before one of the men barked something at Viktor._

_“Hold my phone” said Yurio, pushing the device into Yuuri's hand and went to launch at the man, his expression filled with rage. Yuuri was sure he would have ripped that man's face off, if Viktor hadn't stopped him. “It's not worth it” he said, putting a hand on the young skater's shoulder, navigating him to one of the chairs before he himself took a seat next to his fiancé._

_“What did he say?” asked Yuuri, whispering into Viktor’s ear._

_“Don't worry about it” answered the Russian with a smile, placing a kiss on the other's cheek._

_“He called him a faggot” murmured Yurio, bouncing his leg under the table. He was clearly upset, and Yuuri couldn't blame him. He was upset as well. He knew Russia was as homophobic as you can get, he also knew that what he and Viktor's been doing the past months (being engaged, that is) was putting them at risk, especially in this country. But Viktor liked Russia, despite all of this, and he wanted to live here, with Yuuri, so he couldn't say no to moving in with him. But that didn't mean he wasn't angry at people calling them names and being homophobic assholes._

_“It's not a big deal, Yuuri. It happens all the time, I've learned to deal with it” said Viktor nonchalantly, but Yuuri knew better than to believe him. He could see through his fiancé's mask by that point._

_“Just because it happens often, it shouldn't be okay” he told the Russian, taking his hand under the table._

_“Well, I can't just let Yurio tear apart every person who's a little mean to me” answered Viktor with a smile._

_“I would've done more than just tearing that dickhead apart” said the younger Russian._

_“And then what? Beat him up until the police get here? So they can take your ID, realize it's fake and then put you in jail? Viktor's right. It's not worth it, Yurio” explained Chris._

_“That's not my name” shouted the teen before going quiet again. “Whatever, I'm getting drinks, you guys want something?” he asked, looking around the table and the others gave him their orders._

_And Yuuri, not for the first time that night, thought about the young Russian skater, who kept surprising him again and again, ever since their first meeting. Yurio was definitely an interesting person. He kept his walls up and his distance from most people but Yuuri knew, deep down he cared about them. The way he kept letting Viktor call him "Yurio" without even a flinch, or how he reacted to those men calling him names just minutes ago was clear evidence of that._

_“You really mean a lot to him” he told Viktor._

_“Hmm?” the Russian asked, his eyes still on Phichit, who was telling a story Yuuri had already heard before._

_“Yurio. He clearly likes you, Viktor” explained the Japanese._

_“Oh..., I mean, I know he looks up to me. I think he sees me as a brother of some sorts? But I don't know, that boy's an enigma” said the Russian._

_“He just has a hard time showing vulnerability.”_

_“Don't we all, Yuuri?” half-joked Viktor._

_“I guess. Although I'm pretty sure I know a silver haired Russian who wears his heart on his sleeve.” And that was mostly true. Viktor often said what was on his mind, having trouble censoring himself in front of the people his comfortable with._

_“That's only because you know me” Viktor answered and turned his attention back on Phichit._

_And Yuuri supposed he was right. Viktor, to the general public, was a mystery. He never really talked about his past, his family, the people close to him, or recently, the future of his career. And even if getting to know the Russian fully was still a work in progress, Yuuri was sure he was doing a better job at it than most. To the world, Viktor Nikiforov was nothing but a champion, an idol. Only the ones close to him knew how truly human the Russian was. It was something that caused a slight panic in Yuuri, early on in their relationship. To see someone morph from a God to a human person, with flaws, making mistakes and not knowing things, was equally as terrifying as exciting. But Yuuri learned to love every minute of this transformation. He loved that he knew things about Viktor that the other desperately tried to hide from everyone, including himself sometimes. And he loved the man who cried during sad music videos and at the end of romantic movies, he loved the man who kept impulse-buying the most unnecessary things from Wish and e-Bay, the man who forgot where he left his phone or his keys every time he placed them somewhere other than his pockets and the man who never did the dishes and never talked about his father and had bad days when he wouldn't get out of bed. He loved Viktor, flaws included, and he wouldn't stop loving him, no matter what._

_Yurio came back with drinks after a few minutes. “The queue was long as fuck.”_

_“Language!” Viktor warned him, to which the teen only rolled his eyes._

_“It is pretty crowded, isn't it?” said Chris._

_“Yeah, let's just leave after this one” said Phichit and took a glass from Yurio. “What's in this?”_

_“Vodka and orange juice” answered Yurio._

_“Sweet” said Phichit and took a sip from his drink._

_“I hope so. This place is expensive” murmured the other._

_“I'll pay for them if money's a problem” offered Viktor._

_“Nah, it's fine. We're leaving after this anyway, right?” asked Yurio, eyes focused on something behind the other Russian._

_“Yeah. Why?” asked the older skater, picking up on the other’s unease._

_“No reason” said Yurio and he sat down on his chair. “Where's the next place?”_

_“Just two blocks down from here, look!” answered Viktor, shoving his phone into the younger's face._

_“What if we skip it?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Like, going to place number 4 instead of number 3?”_

_“I suppose we can do that, although that would mean a 20 minute walk” explained Viktor looking at his phone._

_“We can always take the metro if you're too drunk” said Yurio._

_And looking at Phichit’s current state, they took the metro, and Yuuri told the Thai skater to have something non-alcoholic at the next place._

_The next place turned out to be a club instead of a simple pub, with loud music and UV lights illuminating the crowded space. The group found an unoccupied boot farthest from the bar counter. "I'll get drinks" announced Yuuri and he felt the place spinning around a little as he stood up. "Slow down Katsuki!" he thought to himself._

_“I don't think that's a good idea, солнце” said Viktor with a smile._

_“Why? They speak English right?” asked the other, confused._

_“Yeah, but then they'll know you're not from around here and will charge extra for the drinks” explained the Russian._

_“They can do that?”_

_“Not legally but yes.”_

_“Then I'll just order in Russian” said Yuuri, which earned a snort from Yurio._

_“Let me handle it for now” chuckled Viktor, patting the other’s back. And Yuuri let him, of course, watching as his fiancé cut through the couples and groups on the dance floor to get to the bar, silver locks disappearing in the crowd of dancing (more like writhing) bodies._

_“How's learning Russian going for you anyway, Yuuri?” asked Chris, amused._

_“Uhm... Меня зовут Yuuri” was all the Japanese could say, looking back at his friends. Yurio laughed again._

_“Don't overwork yourself; you might pull a muscle in your brain or something.”_

_“At least I know_ some _words, I doubt your Japanese is any better” said Yuuri._

_“I watch anime, you know?” answered Yurio, although his earlier smugness was gone._

_“We all do, Yurio. That doesn't mean anything” stated Phichit._

_“Don't call me-“ yelled the Russian but was interrupted by Viktor returning with drinks._

_“A Vodka-Martini for Chris, a beer for Yurio,-“_

_“Why can_ he _call you that?” interrupted Phichit but Viktor continued as if nothing happened while the teenager sent what could only be described as a “death glare” to the Thai skater across him._

_“- they didn't have Heineken, I hope Stella's okay.”_

_“Whatever” answered the younger, taking the beer._

_“Okay, here's two glasses of water for our Asian gentlemen and a vodka for me!” he said the last word like a child celebrating their birthday, before sitting down next to Yuuri._

_“Why do you drink beer, Yurio?” asked Chris, smiling at the teen._

_“Stop calling me that!” grumbled the boy._

_“Sorry. Why do you drink beer, Yuri? I mean, there are plenty of other beverages out there” explained the Swiss._

_“I like beer” answered Yurio with a shrug._

_“Bullshit! No one likes beer” shouted Phichit._

_“Well I do” barked the Russian._

_“So what if he likes beer?” shrugged Viktor with an arm around Yuuri's waist._

_“But- but it's bitter, Viktor. No one actually likes beer; they just say that to not seem feminine. Beer is a toxic-masculine drink” argued Chris._

_“I'm pretty sure it's just a drink, Chris. Let the kid drink whatever he wants” said the other skater._

_“Except shots” interrupted Yuuri._

_“Except shots” repeated Viktor._

_“I'm just trying to broaden his horizon, give him other options” explained the Chris._

_“Hey, why can't I have shots?” asked Yurio at the same time._

_“Yuuri's worrying over you being underage” answered Phichit._

_“What? Since when did you become my father, pig?” asked the teen angrily before grabbing Yuuri by the front of his shirt._

_“I'm just-“ started Yuuri._

_“No, you don't have a say in this. I can have whatever I want. I'm not some kid.”_

_“Yurio” said Victor, as calm as a cucumber (Why is that even a thing? Cucumbers have nothing to do with being cool, thought Yuuri.) and the young Russian sat down, giving the Japanese one last glare._

_The conversation shifted from one topic to the other, although they often went back to talking about skating and competitions. And despite sobering up a bit (thank god for that glass of water) Yuuri still felt a pleasant buzz in his head, slowly lulling him into sleep. His head fell on Viktor's shoulder._

_“Sleepy already?” asked the Russian quietly._

_“Yeah” murmured Yuuri into the other's neck._

_“You can't fall asleep now, любимый. The night's still young” smiled Viktor._

_“What time is it?”_

_“Uhm... a little past ten.”_

_“That's pretty late.”_

_“You act like an old man” chuckled the Russian._

_“You're older than me, though” argued Yuuri._

_“You're just proving my point, солнце. Come on, let's dance a little. That’ll wake you up.”_

_“Alright” he agreed, reluctantly._

_And a moment later Yuuri found himself on the dance floor with his fiancé, dancing to something that sounded more like a washing machine than actual music. “This music is garbage” he shouted into Viktor's ear._

_“I know, I could ask the DJ to play something else” the other shouted back._

_“You could?”_

_“Well...” started the Russian looking at the young woman behind the heavy speakers “if you don't mind a little flirting.”_

_“I don’t, as long as you're wearing that” said Yuuri, toying with the ring on Viktor's finger._

_“You know I would never take it off” the Russian answered, kissing the ring on other's hand before walking away. Yuuri didn't hear what Viktor was talking about with the girl but she was blushing, the same way the Japanese had done in the beginning of his relationship (sure, like that had changed) with the older skater, and then she nodded when the man lent close to her. And before Yuuri knew Viktor was by his side again, arms winding around the shorter man's neck._

_“What did she say?” Yuuri asked._

_“There's still like 5 minutes left of this garbage but then she'll play the song I asked for.”_

_“Good. What did you say to her that made her blush?”_

_“Are you jealous, милый мой?”_

_“No, just curious.”_

_“I complimented her face and just smiled at her to be honest.”_

_“How did you smile at her?” asked Yuuri._

_“Like this” Viktor said with a handsome smirk._

_“Oh yeah, that'll do it” Yuuri told him, blushing. (So yeah, he didn’t get over that habit.)_

_“Do you wanna grab a drink in the meanwhile?” asked Viktor, pulling Yuuri back to reality._

_“Sure but we’ve only got five minutes” he answered._

_“We'll do a shot then.”_

_And so they did. Viktor ordered them vodka and Yuuri was reminded, not for the first time in his life, that he really shouldn't drink shots._

_“Let's get back to the dance floor” said Viktor when the next song started and Yuuri thought the melody was vaguely familiar, though he couldn't really hear it over his own coughing. Vodka was not his friend._

_“Do I know this song?” he asked his fiancé, who was already shouting the lyrics, along with most of the people in the club._

_“It's pretty new, I sometimes listen to it in the car” answered Viktor._

_“What is about?”_

_“Partying and drinking. Don't look for something deep” shrugged the Russian and he dragged his fiancé into the crowd._

_And that was the last thing Yuuri remembered before the vodka kicked in._

\--

A groan came from next to Yuuri and he watched as Yurio slowly opened his eyes, his face shifting from tiredness to horror then anger in under a minute before settling on tiredness once again.

“What time is it?” came the simple question from the young Russian, his voice was rough.

Yuuri, of course, had no idea what time it was, so he reached for his phone on the nightstand next to him. The screen lit up (thankfully the battery was still on 8%) and the first thing Yuuri saw was ten missed calls and eleven messages from Viktor. And suddenly Yuuri remembered what was missing.

“Where's Viktor?”


	2. A broken nose...

_Yuri watched as Yuuri and Viktor disappeared into the dancing horde. His head was spinning, did he drink too much? The world looked a little hazy._

_“I'm going to the restroom, watch my drink!” he told Christophe and headed towards the back of the club._

_The men's room was quiet besides the guy using one of the urinals, most of which were filled with literal shit and other unidentifiable body fluids. “Animals” Yuri thought before he stepped into the last stall. He just wanted some quiet to clear his alcohol-filled brain. He pulled out his phone to reply to Otabek's last message._

_**Beka:** Don't get too drunk!_

_**Yuri:** I'll try but it might be too late._

_**Beka:** How many did you have?_

_**Yuri:** Four or five beers, no shots tho. Katsudon didn't let me._

_And Otabek replied something to that but Yuri's attention was caught by the sound of the opening bathroom door. Muffled music filled the space as people walked in. Then, a conversation began and he felt his stomach do a flip. What was said was not the important part. No. It was the possible owner of the voice that made the teenager anxious. He stood on the lid of the toilet as quietly as he could and slowly poke his head out from the top of the stall. His suspicions were correct: by the urinals stood three men, the very same men that took their table at the last bar and then called Viktor a fag. And speaking of Viktor, he should probably call him and say that they needed to leave immediately, because as much as Yuri would have liked to beat up those assholes at that very moment, he was pretty sure he would be outnumbered by them. So yeah, the best plan was to get out of the club asap. But Viktor was dancing; he probably wouldn't hear his phone. He could try calling Chris or Phichit, but talking in general was not an option at the moment. What if the men recognize his voice? He was pretty sure the three muscle-brains could kick in the door to his stall. So Yuri would just have to wait for them to leave, then find the others and get the hell out of here before those assholes start a fight or something._

_Thankfully, the men finished their business and left the room so Yuri wasted no time sneaking out and rushing to the dance floor._

_“Виктор! Виктор!” he yelled, pushing against sweaty strangers, girls with smudged make up, couples basically humping each other, when he noticed the familiar locks of silver hair._

_Viktor was currently very busy sucking a hickey on Yuuri's neck, grinding against the other's- Nope, Yuri was here for a reason. A reason that was more important than his friends’ make-out-session, so he placed a hand on the other Russian’s shoulder and shook him with as much force as he could manage._

_“Wha- oh, hey, Yurio!” greeted Viktor after a second of confusion, or at least that's what Yuri thought he’d said, reading his lips since the music was too loud._

_“We gotta get out of here” he yelled at the two men._

_“Why? Is something wrong?” asked the older Russian, his previously hooded eyes snapping open with worry._

_“I'll explain it later, just go outside! I'll fetch the others” he pushed the two skaters into the direction of the exit and then turned around to get back to their table._

\--

“Oh my fucking God! Don't tell me you lost your fiancé!” groaned Yurio burying his head into the pillows.

“I have a bunch of missed calls and unread messages, and...and...and I don't remember anything after we went dancing at that club and... oh God, I lost Viktor…” hyperventilated Yuuri.

“Okay, let's think rationally. Maybe he's just sleeping on the couch, since I'm here” said Yurio, referring to his and Yuuri’s shared bed. And maybe he was right. Viktor was a nice person, maybe he just let the younger Russian sleep in the bed and he took the couch. Maybe, maybe…

“Wai- wait, what do you mean maybe? You don't remember either?” asked Yuuri, really panicking now. Of course. Why would Yurio remember? He's only 16 and he's been drinking. And Yuuri let him. He was deeply disappointed in himself.

“I think I remember more than you do but it all gets blurry after the fight and the bus ride” said the teenager with a yawn. Yuuri had never seen him so soft.

“Fight? Bus ride?”

\--

_“We're leaving” said Yuri when he got back to their table._

_“What? Why?” pouted Phichit, who somehow managed to get his hands on more alcohol despite the others clearly telling him to drink water instead. “I was just about to get on the dance floor.”_

_“Don't care, get up and go outside!” Yuri ordered, pulling the other by the wrist._

_“Where's Yuuri and Viktor?” asked Chris._

_“Already outside, c'mon, let's go.”_

_“What's going on?” asked the Swiss as he was being pushed towards the exit._

_“Those assholes from the previous place followed us. Can we leave now?” Yuri basically begged but he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. He wasn’t one to beg, that was a known fact. Which made the other two realize the seriousness of the situation and the three of them hurried out of the club._

_Once outside, Yuri immediately noticed the commotion. It wasn’t something you could just miss._

_Viktor was on the ground, below him one of the men from earlier who was currently being punched in the face multiple times by the silver-haired skater. And if Yuri weren’t so frightened he would have been impressed. Meanwhile, Yuuri was being choked by another man but that quickly changed when the Japanese kicked his attacker in the nuts._

_However, the last out of the three was approaching them fast, clearly aiming for the week-looking shorter man. And Yuri felt his blood boil with adrenaline and the consumed alcohol._

\--

“Yeah, it was… something. It definitely happened” said Yurio.

“I- I think I remember. It was those men from the second bar.” And Yuuri felt like the events of the night were slowly starting to come together.

\--

_Viktor was grinning at him like a madman, moving his body to the rhythm in the most obscene way. His hands found their ways to Yuuri's hips. "Two can play that game" the Japanese thought and he placed his hands on the other's ass, to which the Russian's smile turned devilish and pulled their bodies together. Their faces were so close Yuuri could feel every panting breath the other took but it wasn't nearly close enough. He wanted to kiss Victor so bad his bones were aching. But could he? They didn't really show affection in public, for the reason that as previously stated: Russia was a really homophobic country. But they were drunk, so at that moment Yuuri didn't give a fuck, to put it lightly, and he smashed their lips together with so much force he felt dizzy. (Or maybe that was just the alcohol.) And then Viktor moved his lips to Yuuri's neck and grinding his hips harshly against the other's and the younger skater finally felt complete._

_That didn't last long however, because Yurio appeared out of nowhere and told them that they had to leave. He seemed anxious, and that made Yuuri anxious._

_“Why? Is something wrong?” asked Viktor, his brain seemingly in sync with Yuuri's._

_“I'll explain it later, just go outside, I'll fetch the others” yelled the younger Russian, shoving them towards the exit before disappearing into the crowd again._

_“What do you think is going on?” Yuuri asked, worried._

_“I have no idea but I don't want to fight a hormonal teenager with anger issues” answered Viktor, guiding his fiancé out the door._

_“He seemed serious. And worried. I’ve never seen him like that.”_

_The night air was chilly, despite it only being September, but that's what you get when you live so up North. Yuuri felt a shiver run down his spine._

_“You're cold, любимый?” asked Viktor, placing his chin on the other's shoulder._

_“A little.”_

_“I can give you my jacket.”_

_“Then_ you _would be cold.”_

_“There's Russian blood running in my veins” said Viktor proudly._

_“That, and vodka” giggled Yuuri._

_The sweetness of the moment was interrupted by a loud yell._

_“Эй, вы!”_

_They turned their heads towards the familiar-looking man. The younger skater suddenly felt his blood freeze and he knew that wasn’t the outside temperature._

_"Мы?" Viktor asked, playing dumb. Yuuri could see the tightening of his jaw before the “conversation” began. It was pretty heated. And then, the man pushed Viktor, who pushed right back and the two somehow ended up on the ground._

_He needed to call the others, right now. He couldn't just stand there and watch as his fiancé was wrestling with a stranger on the pavement. He couldn't do anything, though, as he heard footsteps behind him and turned around to face with another angry Russian._

_“Please don't-“ was all Yuuri could manage to say, pleading before he felt a pair of hands around his neck, chocking him. He heard the door of the club open, despite his air-deprived brain, and as his attacker got distracted for a split second, he kicked him hard in the dick. The guy immediately let him go, wincing in pain and yelling profanities, but not being able to do much else. Yuuri wanted to rush to help Viktor, to be useful in this crazy situation, when he heard Yurio yell something in Russian as he ran past them, colliding with the third member of the attackers’ group._

_Yuuri could only watch as the teenager sent the bearded man to the ground with a kick in the chest and then started punching the guy who was shouting for help. The commotion must have alerted others because soon Yuuri could hear sirens, and Chris probably heard them too, as he pushed Viktor off the now passed-out man while Phichit did the same to Yurio._

_“We gotta leave, now!” the Swiss yelled and pulled Viktor along, running. Yuuri didn't have to be told twice._

_They sprinted down the street away from the sirens._

_“We can't outrun them, they have cars” said Viktor._

_“I can't be arrested in Russia!” cried Phichit as they took a turn down a narrow street, away from the approaching sirens._

_“Follow me” yelled Yurio and they ran down the block before taking a left turn._

_The young Russian stopped unexpectedly in front of a door, causing Chris to crash into Yuuri, sending him to the ground._

_“Here” said Viktor and the Japanese took the hand offered to him, helping him up from the pavement._

_In the meantime, Yurio typed in the code and the door opened with a buzz before the group was shoved inside the building._

_“Stay. Very. Quiet!” whispered the teenager, harshly._

_The only thing that was audible from that point on was the sound of the group catching their breath and the sirens in the distance. Not that Yuuri could hear much from the blood rushing in his ears._

_He felt a hand brush against his and he looked up, locking eyes with his fiancé;_ _those blue irises looking grey in the darkness of the stairway. And then Yuuri noticed his nose, swollen and dripping blood, most likely broken. "Your..." he whispered, putting his fingers under Viktor's nose, eyes wide. The Russian mimicked his expression for a second, before, to Yuuri's biggest surprise, he started laughing, the way students do when they are in class, not wanting to draw attention. His shoulders were shaking as he snickered silently. It was probably the adrenaline, or the alcohol, or just the utmost ridiculousness of the situation but Yuuri joined in with the same intensity, his stomach was already starting to hurt from the giggles._

_“Are you for real?” asked Yurio, glaring at the two, eyebrows in a frown._

_“Sorry- heh- it's just - haha - I can't believe we did that” laughed Victor, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “For a moment I thought we were done for. I thought “Well shit, this is how it ends” but then you guys came, and the police, and the running away and it's just- It feels so good to be alive.”_

_“I didn't know you had it in you, Mon Amie. You almost killed that guy” said Chris, joining in with a laugh so comical that now even Phichit was giggling._

_“Let's hope that just almost” wheezed the silver-haired Russian._

_“You'd never survive prison Vitya” said Yuuri, catching his breath. Again, it should not have been this funny._

_“If I'm going to jail, you're coming with me.”_

_“How much do you get for kicking a guy in the nuts? Ten years?” joked Phichit._

_“I don't know. How much do you get for murder?” asked Yuuri, looking at his fiancé._

_“I'm sure they'd let you get away with a warning. Figure-skating-legend Viktor Nikiforov would only need to look at the judge with those puppy-dog eyes” said Chris._

_“You guys are so immature” Yurio groaned, stepping away from the group. And Chris wanted to say something to that, probably about how the young skater was just as much in the physical part of the fight as Yuuri or Viktor, but the lights turned on and everybody froze._

_They waited for a moment, although it could have been hours, it certainly felt like that, and the lights turned off again. The silence remained, however, until Yurio waved his arm above his head and the stairwell was once again illuminated. "Fucking motion sensor" grumbled the teen and the others started laughing again. At that point, everything seemed funny._

\--

“What do you remember?” Yurio asked.

“Viktor might have killed a dude... oh God, do you think he's going to jail for that? What if he's already there? I remember getting away from the police and we hid in this apartment building but not much after that” rambled Yuuri.

“I'm pretty sure he's not in jail. He might be in the hospital, though.”

“Oh yeah, his nose…” remembered Yuuri. “Wait, you mentioned a bus ride before. Was that before or after the hospital visit?”

“Uhm...before?” answered Yurio, chewing on his bottom lip, clearly not remembering as much as he had thought.

“We're so screwed.”

\--

_“Alright, enough of this! Let's get out before someone actually comes down those stairs” said Yuri, pushing the others out the door._

_“How did you even know the code, Yuri?” asked Phichit._

_“My aunt lived here when I was younger, and since it was close to my school at the time, I often came to visit her” explained the young Russian._

_“When was that?” asked Viktor._

_“Six years ago now” Yuri answered. He had fond memories of those visits, the smell of her special chocolate cake and the sound of soap operas on television. He must have spaced out a bit because the others were giving him a weird look._

_“I'm so sorry, Yurio, I didn't know she-“ started Viktor._

_“What? Moved two blocks from where I live now?”_

_“I thought-“_

_“You thought she died and this is a part of my tragic back-story?” asked the blond, raising his eyebrows._

_“Well, if you put it that way it does sound bad” said Viktor, dripping blood on the pavement. Yeah, right, they needed to take care of that._

_“The closest hospital is fifteen minutes away, do you think you can manage?”_

_The answer was no, of course they couldn't manage. Viktor kept swaying from left to right, stepping on the heels of Yuri's (white) sneakers, Phichit, relieved that he was not going to jail, started singing a song Yuri didn't know but Christophe apparently did as he started singing along, and Yuuri was now in full panic mode nursing over his fiancé. So Yuri had no other choice but to sit them down at the next bus stop and look up a bus on his phone._

_They caught the last bus that day and Yuri was thankful for not having to deal with escorting a bunch of drunken figure skaters to the hospital. But that was as far as his luck went, because as the adrenaline started leaving his body, he suddenly felt those beers._

\--

“First of all, start breathing before you pass out” the blond reassured Yuuri, patting his back awkwardly as the other’s breathing slowly evened out. "Good, now show me those messages. The only thing that matters is finding Viktor, right?”

Since when did Yurio know how to do anything that didn't involve skating, anger or sarcasm? Yuri couldn't believe how this morning just kept surprising. No, not just this morning, Yurio himself. Ever since he woke up, the young Russian had been nothing but helpful and (although Yuuri would never say it out loud, afraid to get physically harmed by the younger skater) kind.

He silently reached for his phone and unlocked it before reading through the messages.

11:56 PM

 **Viktor:** Yuuriiii

 **Viktor:** thwy drtugged mw

 **Viktor:** drugfd me

 **Viktor:** drugged me

 **Viktor:** i wll call u

11:57 PM - 2 missed calls from **Viktor N.**

11:58 PM - missed call from **Viktor N.**

“He got drugged!” panicked Yuuri.

“We went to a hospital, right? Maybe he just got painkillers or something” said Yurio.

“Yeah, right. Let's not jump to conclusions.”

11:59 PM

 **Viktor:** picj uppp!!

 **Viktor:** pleas

12:00 AM - missed call from **Viktor N.**

12:02 AM

Viktor: m cqllin yurio

01:01 AM - 2 missed calls from **Viktor N.**

01:02 AM

 **Viktor:** I'm srry

 **Viktor:** pls Yuuri we neef to tqlk

01:04 AM - missed call from **Viktor N.**

03:54 AM - missed call from **Viktor N.**

03:55 AM - 2 missed calls from **Viktor. N.**

04:32 AM

 **Viktor:** cal u in th mornin <3

“He called you after midnight, or at least it seems like that” Yuuri said, showing the messages to Yurio, who then reached into the pocket of his jeans for his own phone.

“Where's my phone?” Now he was the one panicking.

“Let's look around, it’s gotta be here somewhere.”

They searched through the bed and then their jackets on the floor.

“Found it, oh of course it's dead” groaned Yurio.

“I have a charger in the living room” said Yuuri and he walked to the door, ignoring his headache.

Where had he put that charger? He was pretty sure he'd left it on the coffee table. However, the charger was not what he found on the mentioned piece of furniture.

“Phichit?”


	3. ...not a broken heart

Viktor woke up on the floor of an unfamiliar room with large windows. He slowly sat up, wincing as he felt a throbbing pain in his nose. He took in his surroundings, carpeted floor, the smell off cleaning products, the buzz of a mini-fridge in the corner and a large bed in the middle. So a hotel room, okay, he could work with that.

There was movement on the bed. He wasn't alone and he didn't know if that fact was comforting or straight up terrifying.

He reached for one of the bedposts, steadying himself as he tried to stand up. "I'm too old for this" and "I'll never drink again" were the only two thoughts in his mind before he got on his feet and looked at the person sleeping in front of him. Christophe. Okay, good, at least it wasn't a stranger. But how did Viktor get here? The last thing he remembered was... the hospital?

\--

_The bus ride was either an hour or a minute long, Viktor wasn't sure. The only thing he could concentrate on was the throbbing pain in his nose and Yuuri's hand on his back._

_Either way, they arrived and the nurses took it from there._

_They made Viktor journey through the entire building: first, a tired-looking doctor examined him, then he got an X-ray, then he went back to the doctor, who explained that yes, indeed, his nose was broken. And then he was sent to another equally tired-looking doctor, where he got anesthesia and everything got blurry before it all faded to black._

\--

“Wha- oh, hi!” greeted a sleepy Phichit. He looked like he'd been dragged through Hell. (He wasn't alone in that.)

“What are _you_ doing here?” asked and angry Yurio arriving at the scene, the loudness of his voice caused the other two to flinch.

“Good morning to you too, Yurio” said Phichit, sitting up on the table. There was no one else in the room (certainly not a silver-haired Russian), so the couch-theory was thrown out the window.

“I told you-“ started the teen but was interrupted by the Thai skater.

“To answer your previous question, I have no idea.”

“What's the last thing you remember?” asked Yuuri, hoping to get more information about the events of the previous night.

“You guys got in a fight” said Phichit but it sounded more like a question.

“We already know that, dumbass. What happened after the hospital?” asked Yurio, losing his patience.

“No. I mean, you and Viktor got in a fight. Not a physical one, you just argued” explained Phichit, looking at Yuuri.

“After the hospital?” asked the Japanese, eyes wide.

“Yes.”

“Do you have any idea where Viktor is? What did we fight about? We need all the info we can get, Phichit. I lost my fiancé somewhere and we had a fight? God, what if we broke up?” Panic set in once again, or maybe it never really left, and Yuuri felt his knees getting weak.

“Calm down, Yuuri” said the Thai, placing a hand on his friends shoulder. “You love each other more than anything, and Viktor can take care of himself, right? I'm sure whatever happened wasn't that bad and he's probably somewhere safe. Why don't you call him?”

Calling? A phone, right, they came here for a charger, remembered Yuuri.

“Okay, I'll try calling Viktor, you search for the charger and if he doesn't pick up we'll search through your phones for clues.”

They got to work and Yuuri soon realized that finding the charger was the easy part of the plan, since Viktor's phone was unavailable. Probably dead or lying in the bottom of a lake for all he knew. He tried again, to no avail, while Yurio waited for his own phone to come back to life and Phichit scrolled through social media, desperately hoping he didn't post anything stupid. But of course he did.

“Uhm... you guys gotta see this” said Phichit.

“He won't pick up” said Yuuri at the same time, feeling defeated. Then the Thai's words sunk in so he went over to where his friend was sitting on the couch, while Yurio all but tore the phone out of the other's hand.

The video was, chaotic, to say the least. Phichit's hands had been shaking so much that Yuuri could barely recognize the people at first. But it was them, it was clearly them. _He and Viktor were talking_ (or according to Phichit’s previous statement: arguing) _about something but it wasn't audible over the sound of Christophe’s loud singing. The later was holding onto Yurio’s hair who was throwing up into one of the trash bins._

“Delete this! Now!” ordered the young Russian, mortified by his past actions. Phichit took the phone from him.

“God” sighed Yuuri, just as horrified.

“There's more. I found this on Christophe's private Snapchat."

The picture was a close-up photo of a very drunk-looking Viktor, his surroundings unclear but the lighting had a rather yellow hue. The caption read "to Moscow!"

Yuuri's brain, of course, supplied him with all the worst case scenarios, jumping from one conclusion to the other.

Scenario 1: He and Viktor got in a fight, they broke up and Christophe took the opportunity, taking Viktor to Moscow.

Scenario 2: They got in a fight, didn't break up, but Viktor went to Moscow to clear his head and will probably come to the conclusion that they should break up.

And finally, scenario number 3: They fought, someone took Christophe's phone and kidnapped Viktor, taking him to Moscow on a train or a plain and Yuuri would have to pay some Russian drug-lord or Viktor's last memories of him will be the fight.

“Or… You got in a fight because Viktor and Chris wanted to go to Moscow in the middle of the night” supplied Yurio, and Yuuri only then realized that he'd been rambling about these crazy imagined situations aloud.

\--

_“Yurio! Hii!” came Viktor’s voice from the other end of the line, drunk on anesthesia._

_“Viktor, why are you calling me? We’re just outside your room” groaned Yuri, sitting on a bench in a hallway of the hospital. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous._

_“Yuuri wouldn’t pick up” whined the skater from the other end of the line, and Yuri was sure he heard that through the door as well._

_The aforementioned door opened and a grumpy looking nurse called out in English, Russian accent more than noticeable. For a second, Yuri wondered why she didn’t just use her mother language but he was too drunk to argue and didn’t care all that much anyway._

_“Mr. Nikiforov’s family?” she asked, looking at the group with annoyance in her voice._

_They probably made a more than interesting sight: an over-anxious Japanese man bouncing his leg like crazy, a now shirtless (When did that happen?) playboy with obviously died-blond hair, taking selfies with a Thai dude who looked younger than Yuri. But then again, the young Russian often felt older than his peers._

_“Yes, I’m his fiancé” said Yuuri, jumping up from his seat, and Yuri didn’t fail to notice the slight disgust on the nurse’s face. (Why was every third person in this country homophobic?)_

_But regardless of how the woman felt, she didn’t say a thing, just disappeared into the room, leaving the door open. Yuuri followed her in and after a minute or two reappeared in the hall with a dizzy Viktor by his side._

_“Let’s get out of here” said Yurio for what felt like the hundredth time that night._

_“We should go back to that club itwassonice” said Viktor, heavily leaning on his fiancé as they walked down the streets of the city again. Or at least tried walking, because Yuri felt sick to the bones, his stomach doing triple loops and salchows. That already made his mood sour, but the fact that Chris was singing a song on a language Yuri didn’t understand nor cared about was only taking things even further South. And then the argument started._

_“We should not” answered Yuuri, holding onto one of Viktor’s arms around his shoulders, desperately trying to support the other's weight._

_“You’re right, we should go somewhere else. I know this place in Moscow, they play the best music and have the strongest cocktails and-“ rambled the Russian._

_“We’re not going to Moscow. We’re going home” said Yuuri firmly._

_“Already? Then let me take a picture for my followers” smiled Phichit excitedly, pulling up his phone._

_“But Yuuuuri!” whined Viktor._

_“No, I love you, but I’m tired and-“_

_“Then I’ll go with Chris.”_

_“- and you just broke your nose and we ran from th- wait what?” asked the Japanese._

_“I’ll go with Chris” answered the older man with a bright, drugged-up smile._

_“Say cheese” said Phichit from a few meters away, but Chris just kept on singing and Yuuri had a rather funny expression on his face and that’s when Yuri’s stomach had enough._

_“I’m gonna throw up” he said and almost fell into the trash can._

\--

“Yeah, yeah, maybe you’re right” said Yuuri with a slight relief.

“We should try calling Christophe, since you’re one true love’s not picking up” advised Phichit searching for Viktor’s name in his contacts.

“That’s the best idea I’ve hear this morning” groaned Yurio.

\--

“Okay, think rationally” Viktor thought to himself. He still had his clothes on, despite Christophe being seemingly naked under the covers. Plus he woke up on the floor, so probably nothing happened. He grimaced at the thought of even thinking about something like that. He’d never cheat on Yuuri, no matter how drunk. He trusted himself as much. Speaking of Yuuri, where was his fiancé? Maybe in another room? Why did they even come to a hotel, when they had a perfectly fine (if still a little messy because of the unpacked boxes) apartment in the city centre?

Viktor knew he couldn’t get an answer to those questions right away but he could get an answer to a really basic one: “What time is it?”

He searched his pockets for his phone, only to find it on the floor next to the bathroom door, screen cracked, most likely not working. _When did that happen? Did I do this? Or was it Chris? Focus, Viktor: What time is it?_

He turned around and noticed Christophe’s phone on the nightstand. Something that can answer his question. He slowly approached the device that was plugged in (“Therefore it’s in working condition and probably not dead” he thought) with utmost carefulness. For some reason he didn’t want to wake up Chris only for the Swiss to think he’d been snooping around on his phone. Although snooping around might not seem like a bad idea, considering how the blond skater had a tendency of taking pictures.

He was reaching for the device when it started to ring so loud, Viktor fell to the floor with a shriek. 

“Wha-“ said a startled but still sleepy Christophe sitting up in the bed, looking at the Russian on the floor then at the phone on the bedside table before picking it up.

“Hello?” he said groggily, still managing a charming smile despite the hangover Viktor was sure the other was experiencing.

\--

“Chris, is Viktor there with you? “Yuuri asked taking the phone from Phichit’s hand before putting it on speaker.

“Why thank you for worrying about me so much” came Christophe’s voice from the other end to which Yuuri mumbled a very embarrassed apology.

“It’s fine, he’s fine, we’re fine” laughed Christophe. “His nose looks pretty bad, though. I’m sure it hurts as Hell. Do you wish to talk to him?”

Does Yuuri want to talk to his fiancé? Of course. But does Viktor want to talk to him? Now that was the real question.

“I mean, if he wants to talk to me, then yes” he answered finally and he heard shuffling on the other end of the line. “You’re on speaker now.”

“Yuuri?” said Viktor through the phone.

“I’m sorry, Viktor. I shouldn’t have yelled at you” blurted out the younger man.

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

\--

_“I can’t believe how irresponsible you are, Viktor!” Yuuri yelled at his fiancé._

_“Why would you say that? Because I want to have fun? Because someone’s gotta have fun in this household while you’re worrying about the smallest things that could be labeled as a little reckless” shouted back the Russian._

_“What? “Little reckless”? Viktor you almost murdered someone! You let Yurio drink! A teenager, Viktor! I don’t care if it’s Russia or not, that is not okay.”_

_“You said it was okay? And I punched the dude because he was shouting slurs at me, and at you, but of course you didn’t notice because you don’t speak Russian!”_

_Yuuri knew that was ridiculous. This whole situation was. But they were both drunk and the Japanese was still worked up from the fight and the visit to the hospital. It just seemed easier to blame Viktor for Yurio’s state and apparently it was easier for Viktor to argue over nothing than to make a point._

_“My Russian would be better if you let me practice. I can speak for myself, you know?"_

_“You’re no fun!” said Viktor, suddenly sounding like a five year old._

_Yuuri felt tired._

_“Fine! Go to Moscow for all I care. Take whoever you want with you. Maybe that girl from the club?” He knew he was being childish. He wasn’t even jealous of some random college-student who probably took the job as a DJ just to get extra money to go out or buy cigarettes. But to be fair, Viktor was being just as ridiculous as he was, if not more._

_“I will. C’mon Chris we’re going!” said the Russian, pulling the Swiss skater away from Yurio who was still leaning over the trash can._

_“Oh sorry, it was on video mode. Can we retake it?” asked Phichit, seemingly oblivious._

\--

“We got in a fight, not that I remember, but Phichit accidentally put it on Instagram so… that happened” rambled Yuuri on the other end of the line and Viktor sat down on the bed next to Christophe.

“Cолнце, I quite frankly don’t remember anything like that. But if that’s the case, I probably said things that I didn’t mean and I’m sorry” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“I guess we were pretty drunk” said Yuuri.

“Yeah. What were we even fighting about?”

“You wanted to go to Moscow in the middle of the night but since I didn’t want to go you took Chris.”

“Oh” was all Viktor could say as blurry pictures flooded his mind.

\--

_They were sitting on a bench at Moscow Station, waiting for the train from St. Petersburg to Moscow, and in the harsh, yellow lights, Viktor suddenly thought that this was an utterly stupid idea. He didn’t dare to admit that aloud just yet, though._

_“Look at this handsome man!” grinned Christophe, showing Viktor the photo he took of him. It was a really close-up shot. Good, at least his sour mood was not visible._

_“I don’t care” he said, to which the Swiss stopped smiling and put his phone away. They sat in silence for a while and Viktor thought about calling Yuuri._

_“Why are we even going to Moscow, Vitya?”_

_“I don’t even know” Viktor sighed, burying his face in his hands._

_“Then why don’t we go back to the others?” asked Chris._

_“Because-” the Russian started, muffled behind his hands, before he looked up at his friend again. “Because Yuuri’s mad at me. And I don’t like when he’s mad at me” he admitted._

_“Is he mad at you often?” inquired the other man._

_“Only when I do something stupid.”_

_“So that’s a yes?” laughed Chris._

_“No.” there was a pause “Surprisingly I don’t fuck up all that much” he finished and the other just hummed._

_“He’s so sweet and forgiving and passionate. He moved in with me, Chris, and you know how hard it is to live with me.”_

_“It’s only been two days Viktor, I’m sure he’ll realize that sooner or later.”_

_“But we’ve been living together for months now, and then one night I just asked: “Hey, why don’t you move all your stuff here and live with me forever in this unprogressive country where the government won’t let us be together but at least we have ballet and nice architecture?” And he said yes. And it's just... it's just so unbelievable, having someone who’d give up things for you. I’m not sure I could do that for him” finished Viktor, looking at a train two platforms down._

_“But you did do that for him. You gave up your career, went to Japan and made him into a legend” corrected Christophe._

_“That’s not the same. I didn’t give up anything. I have two years_ at most _and I’ll have to retire from competitive skating. My knees already hurt when I do quads. And for a while, that scared me. But it doesn’t now.”_

_“Because you found something better then skating?” asked the Swiss._

_“No, but something equally as good” answered Viktor, honestly._

_“You should call him.”_

_And Viktor did. But Yuuri didn’t pick up._

_“No luck, huh?” asked Chris._

_“No, but I texted him. I hope I’ll get a reply.”_

_Their conversation was interrupted by the announcer saying that their train would arrive in five minutes._

_“Do you still want to go to Moscow?” asked Chris._

\--

“Viktor? Viktor are you still there?” came Yuuri’s voice from the phone, distressed.

“Yeah… uhm… sorry. Did you say something?” asked the Russian.

“Are you in Moscow?”

“I'm not sure. I don’t think we are.”

“Oh, good. I mean, not good, because then I have no idea where you guys could be.”

“We’re in my hotel room” answered Chris, rubbing his chin. Viktor sighed with relief; at least that question was answered.

“But- but what about your Snapchat, Christophe?” asked another familiar voice through the phone.

“Hi, Phichit! Is Yurio there as well?” smiled Viktor, feeling a little better. He’d been so focused on Yuuri and finding answers he didn’t even notice how much he’d been worried about the others.

“Here” said a grumpy Yurio.

“Good. Where are you guys, by the way?” Viktor asked.

“Home” answered Yuuri.

“Home as in Japan or home as in our-“

“Of course we’re not in Japan, you dumbass. Some of us don’t just go on impromptu train rides in the middle of the night!” yelled Yurio and the line went silent for a moment.

“Were you worried about me, Yurio?” asked the older Russian with a grin.

“No, but I had to deal with your anxious-mess-of-a-fiancé this entire morning.”

“Hmmm…I’m not convinced. It very much feels like you were worried about me” said Viktor, laughing when he heard an angry noise come out of the other skater. “Anyways, I think we’re gonna pull ourselves together and go home. Then we can solve this puzzle-of-a-night together. Meet you guys in an hour?”

\--

“And that’s all I remember. We left the station and I woke up on the floor of a hotel room with a broken phone and a broken nose” said Viktor, chewing on his pancakes. They decided to get breakfast (technically lunch, considering the time) at a café near the apartment, since nobody had the energy to cook.

“How did you break your phone?” asked Phichit.

“We have no idea. It’s pretty much just darkness for me after the fight” Chris told them.

“Which fight?” asked Yuuri sipping on a cup of tea.

“The one in front of the club. Although I’m sure the other one was just as terrifying when you woke up in the morning.”

“Yeah” said Yuuri as he took his fiancé’s hand under the table.

“I’m sorry for scarring you like that” whispered the Russian.

“No, I’m sorry.” Yuuri looked up at him with those deep eyes that made Viktor feel like he could get lost in them and drown.

“Yeah, lovely-dovely whatever. Get a room before I throw up” grumbled Yurio on the other side of the table.

“Funny that you mentioned throwing up…” said Christophe taking out his phone from his pocket.

“Phichit! Didn’t you delete that video?” asked the blond teen, eyes blown wide.

“Oh, I saved it last night” laughed Chris. “I’m pretty sure the whole world saw it. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the internet were talking about Viktor Nikiforov’s relationship and Yuri Plisetsky throwing up into St. Petersburg’s filthiest trash bin.”

And Christophe was right, because as soon as Viktor got a new phone he got at least 40 messages and e-mails from a very angry Yakov yelling at him for "being reckless" and "ruining his career".


End file.
